Through The Fire
by Soncnica
Summary: The Winchester Single Shots group challange. Some ghosts remind you of times gone by.


**Okay so…this is a part of ****THE WINCHESTER SINGLE SHOTS****. The thing is like this: two people work on a story, one gives a scene and then the other gets his thinking hat on and continues the scene. And a story is born. For instance, this story right here…the first scene right up until SNSN was given to me by Darksupernatural and the rest is mine. There are a lot of players in this game, that was all Darksupernatural's idea, like:, ****Emerald-Water, ****Darkuspernatural,**** Sammygirl1963, ****dianne37,** **Blue Peanut M and M, DancerInTheDark101, Vonnie836, Merisha and V.R. Jennings. ****All the stories will be collected and posted under Darksupernatural's profile, so go there and read the stories under ****Winchester Single Shots. For any additional information, go to Darksupernatural's profile page and read it there, because if you hadn't noticed yet, I suck at explaining things. LOL But this is the first and the last story in this challenge that I will be posting here, so for all the rest you'll have to go to Darksupernatural's page. This story is just a little taste to hopefully draw you in.  
**

**_---- _**

**_Scene writer: Darksupernatural_**_**  
**_**_Responder: Soncnica_**

**_Title: Through The Fire  
_**

__**_Enjoy..._**

**_----_**

Sam fired the sawed off at the spirit as she materialized just inside the door out of the room, blocking his exit. She screeched and disappeared. Sam made his way towards the door, cringing as he felt the temperature plummet in the room once more. _Damn, she's strong._ The spirit materialized right in front of him as he stepped through the doorway. She grabbed him with frigid, corporeal hands, sending him flying into the banister. It gave way beneath his weight sending him tumbling head over heels over the edge of the stair case. Sam landed hard on his back, pain causing his vision to darken. He lifted his head, using his elbows to prop him up as he fought to catch the breath that had been knocked from him. Another cold blast of air settled into his bones, ruffling his hair.

"_I burned, inside this house. William, you made me burn. I will have my revenge." _She appeared again, a kerosene lantern in her hand, the flame dancing brightly beneath the glass chimney. Her dress, once blue gingham, was smoke stained and charred. Her hair, as near as Sam could tell, had once been dark brown or even black, now resting in charred clumps of melted silk against her head. Her fingertips were singed beyond recognition, white bone peeking through and burned to jagged tips. _"I loved you, and yet you hurt me. Blamed me for something I did not do. You burned me. Killed me. Now I blame you. I will burn you!"_

"Wait! I'm not William. I didn't hurt you! I didn't burn you."

"_Liar!" _she snarled, her once beautiful mouth now a twisted, blackened hole in her blistered face, her yellowed teeth showing through an upper lip that had been burned away. She held the lantern out, her fleshless fingertips releasing it. It fell to the floor with a crash of glass and the splatter of lamp oil that instantly exploded into a bright ball of flame. It spread along the puddle as the old wood greedily soaked up the liquid. The wood began to blacken, smoke billowing up to quickly fill the room as a wall of flame blocked the only door out.

Sam felt the thickening air closing in around him. It was becoming hard to breathe, the stifling heat choking him, his hair matted to his forehead by sweat. He couldn't see, ducking low to avoid the smoke, trying desperately to find another route out of the house. Sam pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, trying to tie it around his mouth and nose to block the smoke that was searing it's way through his lungs. Sam pulled in a smoke tinged breath, gagging slightly as fine ash seeped even through the cotton material.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, his arm muffling the cry. "SAM!"

"Here Dean!" Sam yelled, coughing violently. His knees buckled and he slid to the floor as his breath was pulled from his body, feeling the heat of the fire as it began to burn through the floorboards.

"Sam!" Dean said, fighting his way through the rising heat, the smoldering boards and timbers of the cabin creaking in protest as he rushed blindly across the floor, his eyes searching for what he was sure would be the huddled form of his little brother. "Come on Sammy talk to me again!"

"Here! I'm here Dean!" Dean heard.

"Hang on!" Dean worked his way across the floorboards, crouching to see beneath the billowing smoke that was beginning to choke him. There. Sam was huddled on the floor, on his knees, a bandana tied around his face, one hand holding him one step away from a face plant. Dean went to Sam's side, hoisting him to his feet. "C'mon Sammy." Dean said softly, putting Sam's arm around his shoulders as Sam sagged into him, his breath rasping through his throat, leaving his covered mouth in muffled, ragged gasps. Dean led him out into the night air, Sam's legs once again falling out from beneath him half way across the dew covered grass. Dean lowered him the rest of the way down, keeping a protective stance over Sam with a gentle hand on his shoulder as he coughed harshly. Dean turned as the old house gave a violent groan and the ground beneath him and Sam seemed to shudder. He watched as the flames shot up when the roof fell in and took two walls of the wrecked building with it.

"Thank god I got you out." Dean said quietly, his hand creeping from Sam's shoulder around to the back of his neck as Dean leaned closer. Sam nodded, finally pulling the handkerchief off his face to rest at the hollow of his throat. His face was covered with soot, a clean line across the pale flesh just beneath his eyes. Tears from his irritated eyes made clean trails from his eyes to the line. "Come on." Dean grunted as he hauled Sam to his feet. "Let's get you cleaned up." He walked Sam slowly to the car and eased him inside, rummaging behind the passenger seat for one of the half empty water bottles that spent it's life rolling around in time with bumps and curves in the road. He unscrewed the lid and handed it to Sam. Sam took it in a shaky hand, pulling in a raspy breath before taking a deep pull. He lowered the bottle, breathing heavily. Dean took the bottle back and poured a little into a hand towel he'd snagged from the back seat. He wiped Sam's face gently, removing soot and tear stains alike. "Ya sure you're alright?"

"Y-yeah. Just, the fire started so quick. The heat and I-I don't know. My head, it went somewhere else."

"Palo Alto?"

Sam lowered his eyes to his soot stained jeans and nodded mutely. "I'm sorry Dean."

"Hey, you look at me for a minute." Dean said, tipping Sam's chin back up. "Don't you ever be sorry. Not for that. Not for lovin' someone enough to think about 'em once in a while."

Sam nodded once more. "Let's get outta here huh?"

"Sounds good to me." Dean said with a smile as he shut the passenger door and circled the car. He got behind the wheel and fired the engine. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah. Just need a shower."

Dean nodded and shifted the car from park, pulling away from the smoldering ruins of the old house.

A chilly wind blew through the clearing that once contained the house, sparks rising from the hot coals. The fire flickered out and the sound of creaking timbers could be heard. Broken boards snapped back into place and studs realigned, righting themselves as charred wood became solid, wood grain visible and strong. White paint, although faded with time bled from the wood beneath the soot and once more became bright beneath the moon. Even old curtains waved in the breeze once more from their stand in each window upstairs. One of the curtains shifted, as if held aside for a moment by a hand, by someone looking out. It fell back into place, but not before a flash of blue gingham was spotlighted by the bright moonlight.

**SNSN**

The shower was hot, as hot as the fire he was just in. The water ran down his aching body, washing away the soot and the tears. It was surreal, his mind hasn't even comprehended the whole 'I was in a fire' thing, but his body sure as Hell noticed. He was shivering despite the heat of the water; little trembles that he knew were just a way of cooping. Fire. Again. Nice.

It felt like all his life is just one big fire…one after another. Mom, Jess, burning ghosts; and now some bitchy ghost accused him of burning her. His life is seriously awesome.

The shampoo got into his eyes, burning them…just like the fire.

"Damn it."

He lowered his head under the spray, adjusting the water pressure and temperature to low; he didn't want to burn himself. That would come after he's dead. Dean will…

He moved his hands erratically over his face, trying to wash away the burning shampoo, when an icy cold breeze wrapped itself around him, raising goose bumps on his water covered back. He tensed his muscles and moved his head from underneath the shower, scrambled for a towel and wiped his face.

"_You killed me, and now I'm gonna kill you." _

Sam gasped and looked around himself, but seeing nothing: "Shit."

It was a familiar voice; his mind kept screaming at him _JESS!_ but he knew that it wasn't Jess's voice. It was someone else's, someone who…

Just when he wanted to step out of the shower, the water turned scorching hot, steam fogging up the bathroom, making everything dense and foggy. He couldn't breathe, the steam blocking his vision but in the corner of his eyes he could see something blue swooshing through the fog.

Water dripped on his back, the burning sensation ripping through his muscles and he could feel burns begin to form on his back.

He fumbled with the water, trying to turn it off, burning his arms in the process: "Damn."

"_You killed me, William."_

Sam spun around and came face to face with the ghost of the woman he thought he got rid of in the house. Guess not.

"I didn't kill you…I'm not William."

"_Liar!"_

"Listen to me." Sam tried pleading.

The ghost shifted its head, and the water turned off, the steam disappeared and Sam almost stumbled out of the shower, when he tried to step on the floor.

"I am not William." He emphasized each word with his hands, calming gestures to put the ghost at peace.

"_LIAR!"_

The air shifted; it literally shifted a little to the left, when the ghost of the woman flickered and disappeared.

-:-

"Dean," wide-eyed, still only wearing a towel, "the ghost, it was here…we need to go back."

"Wha…?"

"We need to go back," searching for his pants and shirt in the duffle, "the house, the ghost…it's still there."

"Erm, okay!? How!?

"I don't know, it came into the bathroom, it said I killed her, ah, it, and it keeps calling me William, Dean…she thinks I'm her…you know…"

Sam was talking so fast that Dean had trouble fallowing him but those last words he understood completely: "Awww Sammy got some ghost love."

"What?!" Sam didn't get what Dean was implying, but that was not the point.

"We need to go, Dean…come on." Buttoning up his shirt, Sam was already half way out the door, before Dean got the chance to even rise up from the bed.

-:-

"Oh, nice…just awesome." Dean said, looking up at the house. The house that was burning when they were leaving. The house that was now the same house as it was the first time they saw it. Not burned, but whole. He shifted his weight on his left foot, adjusting his grip on his shot gun.

"Yeah, told you so."

"But how?! I mean why…what? I mean can nothing stay dead anymore?!"

Sam smiled.

"So what's the plan, lover boy?"

Sam huffed: "Okay, so…she followed me, she can obviously leave the house, she's not bound to it…"

"Yeah, so how do we kill her? I mean make her deader!?"

Sam looked at Dean and raised his eyebrows.

"Deader!?"

"You know what I mean."

"Well, she thinks I'm William…maybe…I can I don't know, talk to her. Explain things to her, maybe she'll believe me and move on."

"Sam? Have you been reading fairytales again?!"

"What? No!"

"Sam, she's dangerous. She can kill you…!"

"We can't burn her, Dean…she already burned. I think this is the only way. Dean, come on."

Before Dean could say anything, Sam was already stepping into the house.

Following Sam's footsteps into the house, Dean had an eerie feeling that this will not end good.

-:-

"Annabeth, here ghosty, ghosty." Dean whispered to no one in particular, maybe the chipped walls, or the stairs, but…there was no sound of any kind from anywhere.

"Annabeth, where are you bitch!?"

Sam rolled his eyes, following Dean deeper into the house.

"_You burned me!"_

Sam could hear her voice loud and clear in his mind, wind whispering into his ear, the smell of burning flesh entering his nose.

"Dean, I think…"

Before he could finish the sentence a wave of cold wind circled him and made him loose his footing. The floor became hollow, the walls became fire red, the shadows that were dancing in the house, became flickering flames.

"Dean!!!" it came out as a whisper, the smoke in his throat slowly making its way down to his lungs.

"_You made me burn!" _

The voice was scorching hot in his ears, on his skin.

"Dean!!" it was still a whisper lost in the flickering flames. He could taste soot on his tongue, he licked it off of his teeth, he could see something blue dance in the middle of the flames; a blue dress, dark hair.

"Annabeth!!" he tried, he really tried to scream the name, but it all came out in a hoarse whisper, with his throat screaming at him to just stop talking.

But if anyone is stubborn, then Sam surely is.

"Annabeth, listen to me."

The more he talked, the faster his lungs filled with smoke, the faster his skin succumbed to the unforgiving heat that was licking it.

"Aaaaaa!!!" Sam screamed and fell on his knees, his hands wrapped protectively around his middle: "Annabeth, I'm not William…please. Just look at me."

"_You left me to burn, you killed me!!" _

The ghost screeched.

Sam knew that he had to get to her somehow, he had to make her listen, he had to make her understand that...that he was sorry.

The flames were getting bigger and hotter and the orange mixing with red, as the flames reached the ceiling was intoxicating.

"Annabeth, 'm sorry. I'm sorry. I," he choked and coughed, "I didn't know. I didn't know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I," he felt tears running down his cheeks, they were tickling him, "loved you."

He felt boney fingers underneath his chin, pressure there that made him raise his head slowly. Her eyes, hollow, black, fire in her hair, her mouth, red, tears…

"You," she inched her face closer to him, "loved me?!"

Sam closed his eyes, his throat constricting, his lungs full of smoke, his skin burning: "I still do." _Jess._

She ran her thumb over his cheek, gathered some tears along the way: "I love you too."

Darkness and a hint of touch.

-:-

"Sammy…"

"Sam!"

"Sam!!"

"Sam!!!"

"Sam wake up."

"Sam I swear to God if you don't wake up…"

"D'n."

"That's it, come on. Open your eyes and let me be pissed at you, when you're awake."

"De'n…"

"Yeah, 'm here. Now open your eyes so I can yell at you."

"Dean…'m sorry."

"Sam!?"

-:-

It was so soft…whatever was underneath him was so soft. So warm.

"Sam, I know you're awake. Just open your eyes."

Dean sounded pissed.

"Wha…?"

Sam opened his eyes, barely registering the motel room or Dean for that matter.

"Whe…?"

"Well, 'm glad you're awake. Now…what the Hell is wrong with you?!

"Huh?!"

Sam blinked. He had no idea what Dean was talking about.

"Sam I told you already, and I swear I _will _have it tattooed on your _ass_…Jess's death was not your fault. It will never be your fault and I already told you that if you want to blame someone then blame me."

Sam blinked. His mind was scattered all over his head, thoughts mixing together into nothing but a blur, his skin was tight, his tongue heavy and the taste in his mouth was like he was licking a furnace.

"Sam, you have to stop blaming yourself."

"What?"

Dean sighed. Okay maybe attacking the kid after just waking up wasn't the brightest idea, but what the hell…he had to do something.

"Sam, I heard you talking to Annabeth, the fiery ghost and…man, you need to stop this guilt trip that you're on."

"Dean…"

The fog lifted from Sam's mind, but his skin was still too tight around his bones.

"Dean, I…"

"Look, man…I know…it hurts but…trust me…it's not your fault."

Sam shifted on the bed, uncomfortable and embarrassed under Dean's look and words and he wanted to hide into the deepest, darkest corner and never come out again.

"Dean…" he looked up into his brother's eyes, seeing the '_Sam it's gonna be okay, trust me, just let it go_' Dean's eyes were shining out and he gripped the blanket and nodded. Dean nodded back.

Clearing his throat, Sam had to know: "Annabeth? What happened?!"

Dean stood up from his bed, and walked towards the table in the middle of the room.

"Well, man, one second you were screaming that you were burning up and the next you were muttering how you're sorry and that you love her and then she…she vanished. I think she's gone now."

"Okay." It was a sigh of a word.

"Yeah."

A comfortable silence fell on the room, Dean typing on the computer, Sam looking out the window.

"Sam, just try to get some sleep."

"Yeah, yeah okay."

He turned into the direction of his brother and tuned out the world. Tuned out everything but the soft tapping of his brother's fingers on the keyboard.

**---**

**The End**


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